


Snippets for Solain

by geidheal



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Forgotten Realms
Genre: Culture Shock, Do people still use drabble to mean 100 words, Drabble Collection, Drow Culture, Fade to Black, First Kiss, Gen, His experience is talked about & remembered, M/M, Poor Management of Feelings, Pregnancy, Trans Characters, Trans Male Character, Transphobia, i don't think so, new experiences
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:21:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27793741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geidheal/pseuds/geidheal
Summary: Various vignettes for the development of one drow bard, escaped to the surface to find his daughter and reckoning with culture shock.
Relationships: Original D&D Character(s)/Original D&D Character(s), Original Male Character(s)/Original Male Character(s)





	1. Susurrus

**Author's Note:**

> In lieu of playing DnD I've been writing the development for this guy. No idea who will enjoy this stuff but I need a place to put it all besides my hard drive. Check out what he looks like [here](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/En4HYclUYAAnJep?format=jpg&name=large).

His reverie was gently interrupted, & Solain opened his eyes to the dark wall of the cave. A constant hissing sound filtered around the corner to the entrance. It was close, & he sat stock still for a moment. Two moments. The source of the sound didn't seem to be moving, & Solain took the time to notice the light from the entrance was muted, like the twilight he'd experienced for the first time a week ago. But his rest hadn't been so long that the sun would have set.  
Rising to a crouch, he cautiously moved to round the wall & peered outside. The sun was safely hidden somewhere behind a gray ceiling from which drops were falling at a constant pace.  
He'd heard about rain years ago, & was briefly reminded of it during his escort to the surface. He'd expected it to be louder. Or quieter. He hadn't expected the depth of field it gave to the wide landscape. Rain was falling as far as he could see, farther than anything he'd seen in the Underdark.  
Reaching a hand out from under the cave entrance, less drops caught in his hand than he hoped. Eager to feel more, he stepped out, removed his wide-brimmed hat & tilted his face to the never-ending blanket of gray above him. Droplets hit his cheeks, so gentle & warm he almost didn't feel it. In the safety of solitude a giggle rose out of his chest as the rain tickled his eyelids.  
Water began to gather, running thin rivulets down his jaw, warm & light. He stood there for a time until those rivulets began to soak his shirt, sticking it to him & bringing a chill. Miserably Solain was minded that rain was more than a novel phenomenon, like any other form of water it would indeed soak him eventually & he had no spare clothes, so he stepped back inside.  
That step turned into a panicked jump as a blinding flash dazzled the drow, a deafening clap & rumble like a cave-in following him into the shelter. Whipping around & seeing nothing, he waited. His escorts had mentioned something else that might come with rain, it was-  
Lightning flashed again, making him flinch, but it was farther & this time he saw it split the sky open in an erratic web & strike the next hill over. Again that deep roar. Thunder. He sat at the edge of the cave, letting himself be dizzied by the lightning & feeling the rumble deep inside his chest.


	2. Artful

Kissing was new. And strange. In the Underdark it was far too artless & forward to be considered an act worth doing. The emotional vulnerability it showed was hardly worth any pleasure it could bring, even for a committed couple. And like many drow, Solain never had a truly romantic partner. So when his friend's lips pressed gently to his, for a moment Solain stood still, maybe trying to mirror what the other was doing.  
Hands slid around Solain's waist to hold the small of his back, pulling their hips close, peppering many warm pecks & kisses along his lips, & Solain began to get the idea. He cupped tentative hands around the back of his partner's neck, thumbing at the beard growing out.  
When the other man opened his mouth Solain almost missed the cue, but the habit of eating alive any beloved thing is a universal one for those who too long cannot express their full desires, & kissing lends itself well to this.  
Their hands grasped each other closer, a small sound coming from Solain & getting swallowed up by the other. Undignified, & Solain decided it wouldn't happen again. Tongue was getting involved & Solain was getting further out of his depth, so he slotted his leg into the other's groin, riding his own against a thigh. Grinning against the forthcoming gasp, Solain was able to continue kissing with a little more confidence.  
Hands made their way down to grip under Solain's ass, lifting enough that he balanced on the balls of his feet. A smile split across his face, beaming down past the warm laving at his jaw. He patted at the man's back.  
"Come on, ah- haha, not here," he said between the kisses that had returned to his mouth. Regretfully, the hands left his thighs but rested on his hips, & Solain was playfully turned around by force. Grabbing a hand, he led them to better privacy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little cameo of a line from Tchaikovsky's gay love letters. Try to check them out if you can & also want to feel gay & a little sad.


	3. Something Felt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the Underdark, you don't explore certain things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't a feel-good chapter. Kinda whumpy. Please note the way Solain handles his feelings is something I know is bad, but he's got no basis for contending with them & this is how it would go. This is also the chapter containing transphobia & a short bit about his child's birth. The transphobia isn't physically violent, but the option for you to skip is there.

From across the street, through a window, & behind a curtain, Solain watched his neighbor. His name was Pavhir, & he was the father to Solain's youngest. Not that being a father meant much in the Underdark. There was no relationship between Pavhir & Chandryl, nor Pavhir & Solain. He wasn't part of their lives because there was no reason for it. Chandryl barely knew his name. There was also no reason for Solain to be watching him, noticing shifts in his routines & whatever events could be seen from across the stone alley.  
But he did notice, & he did find himself watching for no reason other than curiosity.  
Solain had chosen him to father a child for practical reasons, like any other drow. A strong physique, an aptitude for not falling below the detritus, & though Solain would never admit it, a sense of mutual attraction Pavhir hinted at. But to care that about a man's desires was a debasing weakness that put both parties at risk.  
Pavhir was in the room during Chandryl's delivery, a break in formality not usually cared about by the lower class given the lack of space. He'd been ushered to a corner when he helped Solain settle on the bed, & after the baby was born he was allowed closer. While everybody was looking at & appraising the newborn, Solain caught the look on Pavhir's face. It was open, uncalculating & _soft_. Solain was too exhausted to think too hard about it.  
Years passed, & Solain actively discarded most thoughts of the man. They spoke as much as any other neighbor, on the same subjects, with the same distrust. Throughout Chandryl's smaller years, Solain caught Pavhir watching their child, from across the street, through a window & behind a curtain. He bristled when he first noticed, barking for Chandryl to get inside. But Pavhir would still watch, & Solain recognised it as the same gaze of his own that he watched his child with. It was a look of caring, & that wasn't a feeling often afforded for drow children by their parents.  
After noticing that, he withdrew many of the standard hostilities between fellow drow, granting Pavhir a peaceful quietude at an arm's length.  
At the cusp of adolescence Chandryl began expressing dangerous thoughts, wanting to be a priestess, wanting to be mother & a girl. Dreading puberty & all it wrought. Solain made his child stay quiet about it, promise never speak to anyone about it. One would be killed for such ideas, the desire to steal the privilege of a woman. Solain occasionally caught Chandryl going through her sister's things, holding a dress up in the mirror. Solain would say nothing. Chandryl wasn't stupid, & nothing ever left the house.  
But Chandryl was in anguish, every day. Not like her older sister. Solain had felt a level of alienation from his first daughter, the both of them reckoning with everyday life on different, unrelatable levels. But he recognised what Chandryl was feeling, familiar in a way that made his throat clench & a sweat break out on his neck as he realised the weight of it. Neither could be happy with the gendered expectations assigned to them. Chandryl would have to live a life of servitude & submission. Solain would always be stuck as an inaccessible, conniving Mother. While neither of them voiced these feelings, they did bond over it. Quiet glances when something _off_ was spoken, allowing each other to slip up on terminology when it was just the two of them. Never in public, never around anyone else.  
The desire to switch gender made all more complicated the sense of... investment he felt for Pavhir. Solain's perspective was confused, not sure how he should approach the feeling. As a woman, investment in a man without your own ulterior motives was embarrassing. As a man it was base & disgusting, a feeling to be hidden. Either way, Solain couldn't stand to be wanted as a woman. They had nothing to give each other anyway, especially since he had given the Solain a "son".  
Pavhir didn't come home one day, & Solain wasted too many glances out the window trying to catch his return. He didn't care, he was curious. But when Pavhir returned another day later, looking ten times worse for the wear, face bruised & bandages peaking out from his roughened clothes, Solain felt something confusing.   
There was a sadness of some kind, & he checked on his child, sparring around the corner. There was anger, & he took it out on the kitchen, attempting to make _something_ but only shredding the meat into a red mess & shattering the chopping block in a rising fit. There was a need to consume, & he took it out on the bed, rutting hard into the sheets. How _dare_ this man. Who was it that had apparently beat him within an inch of his life? He wanted to kill them. He wanted to lock Pavhir away & never let him leave. A small part of him wished he'd left the marks himself.  
Solain threw up.


	4. Weaver

The man leaned in, a light, confident hand on Solain's shoulder, & murmured "We could spend the night together."  
Solain nearly jerked out of his grasp, but the light touch was foreign & pleasant.  
"You _want_ to have sex with me. That is what you're saying," he said, turning his shoulders to look at the man. They'd spoken earlier, he was a bronzesmith come to the bar after work.  
"Yes? Mutual pleasure, a good time, you know," the man responded, leaning back a friendly space to better read the drow's face. Solain gave a sardonic chuff of laughter.  
"Forgive me, the concept of an enthusiastic partner that also wants your pleasure is... a joke. In the Underdark. You caught me off guard."  
"Really." The hand slid from his shoulder, but he didn't step away.  
"Mention such a thing & you are laughed out of the room. Then maybe killed later," Solain elaborated, & rose with a smirk that implied confidence, comforted by the couple inches he had on the man. He gave a wink.  
"But you have my enthusiastic yes. For mutual pleasure. A good time." He winked. "You know."

* * *

"So, why're you up here?" the smith asked, not knowing the line it crossed. Solain almost bristled, but considered that since the man had his tongue up Solain's ass a few minutes ago, "too personal" wasn't much of an excuse.  
"You really do not know much of drow," Solain ventured, but it seemed to be the standard of surfacers.  
"No," he admitted openly, "There's a lot of fighting?"  
"Very much, but not like up here. It's expected, from childhood. It's done quietly, except for punishment. The threat is always there." Solain turned on his side, looking at the man, & drew the thin blanket between them. "There are many more. Like me. But they are grand, like heroes."  
The other man propped himself up on his elbow, eyes catching an eager twinkle. It seemed he liked a story, & Solain knew he'd dodged the question.  
It was easy to weave tales for people on the surface. Fondly, Solain told of fellow deserters, & the contempt nobles had for them. Aggravating the ruling class appealed to everyone, regardless of where they lived. So Solain entertained, telling of drow that refused to kill, their families punished for their crime. Men dressed brightly, shaving their heads & shunning the practice that marked which house they belonged to. Rising above their station against all odds, bringing tantalising goods from the surface & surviving the scrutiny only by being more cunning than all the rest of society. The wherewithal to return from the surface & leave as they pleased. Unheard of, & a powerful, dangerous idea for those unhappy with their lot.  
Solain spoke like he was in love, enraptured, & in turn his one-man audience was too.  
Both were sitting up, wholly engaged with each other. Solain would lean in close to murmur conspiratorially the plans of rebel drow, tracing his nails across his spectator where they were cut & punished. He gently pulled one of the man's large working hands to Solain's throat, bringing him close so the smith could hear his whispers of righteous matricide.  
Nothing would stop these rebels, dreamers, revolters. Not their queens, not their gods. Not the sun or any other adversary.  
The smith's fingers didn't so much as twitch against slighter man's pulse, perhaps fearful of spooking his storyteller. The tale was finished, & he made to pull his hand away, but the drow moved forward with it. He realised belatedly the bard had woven their legs together, & he'd been edging closer as the story was spoken lower, now their noses almost touching.  
Sliding his hand to the man's dark shoulder, he closed the distance to kiss the drow, & they wasted another hour together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think the "tongue up his ass" line is okay for a 13 year old to read so, given the makeout chapter & this I'm using the M rating for safety's sake. No detailed sex (yet?), sorry.


End file.
